


Imagine Shadows

by Clairavance



Category: The Forbidden Game - L. J. Smith
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Dark, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Forced Relationship, Friendship, Implied Sexual Content, Kafkaesque probably, Magic, Narcissism, Nightmares, Original Character(s), Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, POV Multiple, Post-Canon, Psychological Torture, Rewrite, Runes, Shadow World, Soulmates, Stockholm Syndrome, Supernatural Elements, The Creeper - Freeform, The Lurker, Wiccan - Freeform, alternative universe, mythical creatures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-03-07 11:10:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13433487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clairavance/pseuds/Clairavance
Summary: When Julian first laid eyes on Jenny Thornton, it was love at first sight. He became infatuated and obsessed over her, and he had to keep her safe at all costs - even when the cost was losing his name and place in the Shadow World. He would sacrifice everything and destroy anything that threatened to come between them. Jenny had to know that their fates became entwined forever when she betrothed herself to him. Even with his bannishment from the Shadow World, his love for her would transcend all natural and paranormal laws. Only going through hell can truly change a soul: where bad is good and good is bad, and the line between love and hate merge into terrifying passion.





	1. Home Sweet Home

**Author's Note:**

> Hello fellow readers and writers.  
> This fanfic is the first in a trilogy.  
> The second fic is titled Illusion Collides (complete), the third is Shadow Play (still in-progress).
> 
> A good friend of mine said they've been reading this story again and how much they still enjoy it.  
> Therefore here I am, also rereading this story but also letting my inner-Ed have at it.  
> In case you missed the tag, this is a rewrite. I wouldn't recommend reading this alongside the FFN drafts since I'm not sure how much of this I will cut or change.
> 
> I hope you all find this version better quality and still just as enjoyable as the old. Please read, save, bookmark, add to collection, whatever other options there are on AO3, if you like this. No reviews or feedback necessary, although they are always welcome. 
> 
> The original fanfic is titled Image Becomes Reality.
> 
> Happy reading! :)

Smudged red footprints greeted Tom Locke on the pine floorboards when he stepped into the house. Having served as the Vista Grande Police Superintendent for the past year, his mind naturally jumped to the worst case scenario. It would be tragic if some low-life with a personal vendetta broke into his home, and it was a genuine risk. Tom knew he had a lot of enemies. It was a pity they had to try it on the one day he finally got off work early to join his friends for dinner.

His muscles tensed in anticipation as he silently placed his leather bag against the wall. He took out the revolver in his girdle and flipped the safety off, and without hesitation edged his way across the floor. There were strange short hissing noises coming from Andrea’s room near the back of the house. A fluorescent forked tongue and luminous reptilian scales flashed through his mind from a distant, disturbed memory. Tom shook his head sharply, forcing the thought away, and refocussed on the present.

He held the revolver ready and aimed, glanced into every open door, as he followed the footprints down the hall. They looked small, and still fresh if the glint on the still wet liquid was anything to go by. Another short hiss sounded, louder now that he was closer to the source. It had to be something – or someone – dragging an object, or it could be someone trying to get away. The footprints definitely didn’t belong to Dee, because Dee would have had the intruder knocked out cold and probably in jail before he would have known about the break-in. It wasn't Audrey's, because Tom had seen her and Michael fussing in the Oriental Cuisine aisle at the market only ten minutes ago.

That narrowed it down to two possibilities – Summer or Andrea. Even as he thought it, Summer appeared in front of him suddenly. She wore a blue bandana and had blood stains on her cheeks and on her blouse.

Her blue eyes went wide in fright when she looked right into the barrel of his revolver. "Tom!" Summer cried, hands flying to her lips.

Tom pinched his eyes closed and inhaled deeply, relaxed his finger on the trigger and lowered his gun.  "Damn it, Summer!”

"Are you okay?" Summer yelped. "Why did you have your gun out?"

Tom glanced down at the footprints again and chided himself mentally – there was no smell of blood, he should have noted that before. There was a thick sticky scent of paint coming strong from the room behind Summer, and Tom put his weapon away while he slowly exhaled. “I thought… never mind.”

The last thing he wanted was to create anxiety and paranoia in his household. They didn’t need any more of that. Tom stepped past her to peer into the bedroom and rubbed the bridge of his nose, abruptly and explicably irate.

Red paint was splattered against velvety black walls, mixed with deep grey, pale blues and spots of neon yellow and green that reminded him of something unpleasant. " _Now_ what are you doing, Andrea?" Tom asked, making no attempt at hiding his annoyance as he scowled at the occupant of the room.

She had her back turned to him as she stretched up and painted a crescent of red with a single swipe. Sssssssss, the sound echoed in the bare room.

"You're home early,” Andrea said over her shoulder as she stepped back to examine the wall.

She was as tiny as Summer was, and had her thick golden hair tied back in a ponytail. It made Tom’s scowl deepen – he didn’t like her hair pulled back like that. Andrea dropped the paintbrush on a tarp on the floor and wiped her palms on the side of her dungarees before she turned to him. Her pine green eyes were distant and indifferent, and created a pit in his stomach. Tom’s shoulders sagged and he found himself leaning against the doorframe. He saw that same expression far too many times in Jenny’s eyes, and it helped none that Andrea was a near carbon copy of her. Andrea’s gaze softened and she wrapped her arms around him spontaneously in a friendly hug.

Tom tensed. “Anny…”

“You look like you need a hug,” Andrea said.

 “We’ve talked about this,” Tom said tensely. He couldn’t do this. Andrea tightened her arms around him and pressed herself flat against him. “Yes, we have, but you really look like you need a hug.”

His heart beat hard against his ribcage, and he reached up to hold her shoulders. He couldn’t hug her back, his conscience restrained him, but he didn’t want to push her away either.

“Anny, you can’t… I… we can’t…we’re not together anymore. You can’t just-“ Tom stood uncomfortably, lightly holding onto her shoulders, completely lost.  

“We’re friends and that means if you need cheering up, I’m obligated to help,” Andrea retorted and looked up at him. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you. Isn’t that right, Sums?”

Summer had been watching them and her blue eyes sparkled when she smiled. “We stick together!”

Tom admitted defeat, at least physically, when Summer wrapped her arms around them both in a massive bear hug.

“We can see it through,” Anny said in a sing-song voice.

Tom sighed and cast his hazel gaze skyward as he caught on, but it was too late. The girls swayed back and forth as they burst into song. “’Cause you’ve got a friend in me, yeah you’ve got a friend in me…”

“All right, all right, mission accomplished,” Tom chuckled under his breath as he gently disengaged from their grip.

Andrea and Summer giggled and did a playful high-five. Andrea’s tone was still light when she asked, “Did Super Bob from the next county finally show up to sub for you?”

The question caught him by surprise. Tom forgot just how much Andrea still knew about his work life. "Yeah, Superintendent Robert did arrive this morning," Tom said, shifting on his feet so as to put more distance between them, just in case she felt the urge to hug him again.

"Does that mean you are now officially off-duty?” Andrea asked with crossed arms.

"In a sense, I suppose," Tom said with a shrug and looked up and down the hall, anywhere except at Andrea. She had been so good to him while they’d been together, and she still was. Guilt made him want to run for the door.

Andrea and Summer exchanged a look.

"You can’t be Superman all the time, Tom,” Andrea said.

“And the doctor did say you need some time off,” Summer added. “You are wearing yourself out, Tom. You just need to… put your feet up and watch a movie. Chill out, like Michael does.”

"Yes, mom," Tom said teasingly.

"I am dead serious,” Summer frowned at him. “I think we should look at doing a road trip somewhere. Maybe we’ll go to the country side. Or something nice like that.”

“Or maybe we can go somewhere far away from the forty degree Californian heat,” Andrea chimed in.

“Like that Snow Planet place out in San Francisco?” Summer said excitedly.

“Orrr like Canada,” Andrea echoed her excitement.

For a moment, Tom felt a tang of nostalgia. This was just like the good old times, when they were in high school and Jenny and her girlfriends would get together in the back of his car and make grandiose plans for a girls’ night out on the weekend.  Only, it wasn’t Jenny.  The sweet smile, the cypress eyes, the liquid amber hair, the golden sheen that seemed to follow her like she was a god-sent angel reminded him of the Jenny he used to know. Andrea was a painful reminder of what he had lost with Jenny, but despite that he knew he couldn’t ever let Andrea leave. He wasn’t able to hold onto Jenny when she willingly went into her downward spiral, but he could protect Andrea, he could keep _her_ safe.

"So. What do you think?" Andrea pulled him from his thoughts.

"I….um…" Tom said after a moment and pursed his lips.

“Zoned out?” Andrea said, and this time she was the one to avoid eye contact. She shrugged and turned to pick up the paintbrush again.

Summer looked from one to the other and let out a soft sigh. “Let’s go get a drink. Anny, do you want anything?”

“Whiskey on the rocks, yeah,” Andrea muttered.

“Come on, Tom,” Summer said gently.

Tom paused a moment before he followed Summer down the hallway to the kitchen. The sound of a door swinging open on its hinges caught him in his tracks. He half-turned to stare at the cellar door. It stood ajar and all he could see inside was inky blackness. He frowned and yanked the door closed firmly, and turned the key to lock it.

He found Summer leaning on the breakfast nook in the kitchen, and accepted the tall glass of juice she offered him. “Thanks. Listen… I don’t mean to zone out like that. It just happens-“

“You don’t need to explain, Tom. We know you still love Jenny. We love her too, and we worry about her, too.”

“Yeah but-“

“It’s hard with Andrea. I know. She knows, too, even if she doesn’t understand. Don’t beat yourself up for thinking about Jenny,” Summer cut in, and gave a little shake with her head. “It is what it is.”

Tom nodded. He finished his drink in a few gulps just as Andrea walked in.

"I'm going to be a little late with rent this month," Andrea said as she helped herself to a glass of water. "The royalties are few and far between lately."

"When are you going to get a real job, Anny?" Tom asked. "I don't like these excuses you keep coming up with. If it doesn't pay, it's not a job."

"If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard that, I probably _would_ have the money to make rent," Andrea said and shook her finger at him. "And writing isn't as easy as you think. There's a lot that goes into it that you don't even know about."

"I could write a book, too, Anny. In a week," Tom said.

"But could you write a best seller?" Andrea asked dismissively.

"Probably," Tom shrugged.

"That was a rhetorical question," Andrea gave a curt, not impressed laugh and took a sip from her glass.

"So how does painting your room help you finish that book of yours?" Tom asked.

"It doesn't," Andrea said and licked her lips. "I needed a break."

"From _writing_?" Tom looked confused. “I thought you enjoyed it?”

"Everything in moderation, as they say," Andrea said tightly. "Besides, it takes a lot of mental energy and you can get worn out if you don’t pace yourself. It’s like sleep deprivation. See, this morning when everyone was off to work, I was working on the scene where my protagonist gets trapped in a chimney when she's trying to hide from her nemesis, and she discovers that there's something trapped in the chimney with her and..." Andrea trailed off. She glanced toward the kitchen doorway uneasily, and moved closer to Summer as she finished her drink.

Tom glanced toward the empty hallway, and looked back at her. "And you thought you heard something?"

"Someone." Andrea finally looked at him. She chewed her lip uncertainly. "I thought I heard someone in the house. And the voice was... well... weird. Like... not a real voice. But it's an overload of imagination. I was overdue for a break."

"Maybe you should write about white bunnies in meadows instead," Tom suggested.

"Oh sure, white bunniess having a tea party, and let's not forget the honorable guests, the Mad Hatter and Alice," Andrea said scathingly. There was a moment’s silence, and when Andrea spoke again, her quiet words carved into their bones. “When you Go Over tomorrow, I want you to take me with you.”

Tom grimaced. It had become their way of referring to Jenny indirectly. When Andrea had first moved in no one wanted to tell her who Jenny was – it had been too complicated to explain, too painful to talk about, and she’d been an outsider to their group. An outsider with an uncanny resemblance to the person they wanted kept secret, no less. There had been no need for Andrea to know about Jenny, not back then at least.

Go Over to see Jenny in the Washington Asylum, rocking back and forth in a corner of a room. Go Over to see Jenny clawing at thin air, or fighting off something only she could see. Go Over to see Jenny and watch her try to form proper words and fail miserably. Go Over to see just how much more Jenny had deteriorated since his last visit. Tom couldn't alleviate the disappointment he felt after every visit but he had to hope that she would come to her senses. Suffice to say, over time his visits had tapered out to once a month.

"It’s not a good idea," Tom said. “She wouldn’t want to meet you in the state she’s in.”

"She’s… catatonic, almost," Summer gestured with her hands. 

“And when she’s not, she often has to be sedated,” Tom said.

“So she won’t even know I’m there,” Andrea pointed out.

"Look, she wouldn’t have wanted to meet you under these circumstances. I don’t want you to meet her. She's dangerous and unpredictable."

“Fine, but I’ll keep on asking until one day you say yes."

"No," Tom snapped. "Anny, just let it go."

"I've been living in this house with you guys for two years already," Andrea said as Tom started for the door. "What exactly is this big deal about Jenny that no one is willing to discuss?"

“It's just something we don't want to talk about," Tom said roughly, fully intent on ending the conversation when he left the room.

"It’s scary, Anny. It’s really scary,” Summer chimed in.

Tom backtracked into the kitchen and stared at her incredulously. He shook his head disapprovingly at her as she rubbed her arms nervously.

"It is to me," Summer said in a small voice.

“Uh, I write horror for a living. It’s going to take a lot to scare me,” Andrea protested, and placed her hands on her hips.

“Like Summer said, the majority of the time she’s unresponsive. Do you really want to sit in a room for an hour with someone who can’t hear you or see you?” Tom lifted his eyebrows at Andrea expectantly.

It took a long moment of staring at each other, each willing the other to cave and crumble. Andrea dropped her hands to her sides, and Tom took that as a sign of defeat.

“I didn’t think so,” he said.

“Have you ever tried to exorcise her?”

Summer choked on a mouthful of juice and spluttered and coughed uncontrollably. Tom looked confused.

“I mean, if the doctors and psychologists and medication don’t help and she’s only getting worse, would you ever consider that her condition might be paranormal in nature?” Andrea asked.

“What… why would you say that? How did you come to that conclusion?” Summer demanded.

“It would be the only logical expla-“ Andrea began, but Tom interrupted her.

“There is nothing logical about it. Mental illness can’t be _reasoned_ with,” he said defiantly. “Reason is for the sane, for _us_. So no, Andrea, her illness is _not_ to blame on some made-up paranormal _gibberish_. Her condition can’t be explained by fictitious diseases…”

“It’s not a disease and it’s not fiction. Possession is a real phenomenon,” Andrea shot back. “You’d be surprised to know just how insane reality can be. Not even I can think up stuff half as freaky as what really happens in the world, paranormal and otherwise.”

“Jenny is not possessed by anything.” Anger stained his words and face crimson. The kitchen suddenly felt too small and too hot for him. “It’s a ridiculous idea. I can't even believe you suggested it.”

“Still, Tom. It wouldn’t hurt to have a priest come in and say a prayer over her. See, there are stages of possession…”

“Enough!” Tom banged his fist against the wall so hard it left a dent in the plaster.

Andrea paused for a second and raked her hands through her hair. She faced him squarely, not so much as flinching at his display, but her voice lacked confidence when she said, “Just because you don’t believe in it, doesn’t mean it’s not real.”

“Jenny is not possessed. This is not some stupid ghost story. She is sick and she is in the best place possible to help her,” Tom bit the words off hoarsely. “I would have saved her by now if it was anything else.”

Tom spun on his heel and stormed from the kitchen in a cloud of indignant anger. Andrea slowly turned to Summer who shrugged in reply.

"I know you're just trying to help, Anny, but..." Summer had set her glass on the counter and edged slowly toward Andrea, looking down at her shoes as she uncertainly tried to gather her words. "Jenny is sick. She's just sick. The doctors... they said her symptoms are almost like post-traumatic stess disorder. That she has.... experienced some... unexplicable trauma... and it runs in her family. She is genetically predisposed to..." Summer tapped the side of her head with her finger. "She is... certain experiences can alter the consciousness and neurons for the worse and Jenny..."

Andrea shook herself out of the stupor Tom's temper had left behind, and took hold of Summer's arms. "Summer, you're rambling."

"Her grandfather was nuts, you know? He... he was messed up in the occult. It's followed Jenny ever since she was small, and it just...got too much for her mind. It made her snap. It's all up here." Summer tapped her head again.

"Sums, I'm sorry," Andrea said. "I shouldn't have said anything."

Summer looked at her with glazed blue eyes swimming with unshed tears. She bit her lip to keep from crying. "Because it can't be anything else. It can't _be_ anything else."


	2. Dream a Little Dream of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing totally ebil Julian? What am I meant to actually put here, anyway? It's better to just read the chapter. No spoilers here, na-ah.

The house wasn't safe.

Haloed in shadow and silent as the dark, she slipped behind the lumpy form of the couch and hugged her knees to her chest. She closed her eyes and rocked back and forth, fighting to keep her breathing quiet. She heard the glass door slide and her eyes snapped open. A shadow of a figure was cast against the wall in front of her, illuminated by the pale blue moonlight filtering into the dense darkness. She watched it extend a hand, spread long slender fingers slowly into a quiet wave. _I know where you are_ , the gesture said.

She waited tensely as the shadow drew closer. She twisted and crawled around the couch as he approached. A quick glimpse over the armrest of the couch told her that he was where she'd been only a moment before. She scrambled to her feet and bolted out the open sliding door. Her backyard with the jewel of a pool was gone. There was nothing but a golden field spread out in front of her, looking ominous in the dark. Too obvious. She turned and circled the house instead, stopping only behind a stack of old tires. She leaned forward, hands on her knees as she tried to catch her brea _th._

_Stop running._

She wasn't sure how long she'd been running for. The house had been a barrier for a short while. Still he followed her; she'd seen him through the windows as she'd anxiously tried to find some hiding place. But there was nowhere to hide. There was nowhere left to run. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps as she began to lose her composure.

He was outside again. She could hear his footsteps crunching across the gravel. He was moving away from her. A flicker of hope reared up inside of her, and she turned toward the field. It spread around her like a vast ocean with no end and stretched far into the endless dark. Going back into the house wasn't an option. He'd corner her.

Make a run for it. Now.

Her feet skimmed across gravel and her hands reached ahead to clear a path through the field. She had first thought it was a wheat field, but the plants she pushed aside felt like smooth silk against her hands. She ran faster than she knew she could in this nightmarish place. She ignored the stitch in her side and forced her aching legs to keep moving. A smile spread across her lips involuntarily. She was getting away, again. A sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh caught in her throat.

The game of hide and seek was changing, but Jenny Thornton knew it was just a game. He had good sportsmanship. He always boasted about it. She always had a chance to win. Now, if only she could figure out where to find the base.

She broke free of the field suddenly, and found herself on a familiar street. She recognized the record store wall portraying a mural of an old Eastman Avenue. In the cold moonlight, she could barely make it out. She felt along the wall with trembling hands until she found a round shape jutting out from the rough brick. She turned it and a door swung inward to reveal the familiar Game store. Like everything else, it was coated in moonlight and shadows. She stepped inside and closed the door.

She depressed the push-button lock and let out a long breath of relief. “I win.” Jenny wasn’t sure if she said it out loud or thought it.

She turned around and found herself face to face with his apparition. His eyes were blue, intense and wolf-hungry, and he was so close. Every inch of her skin burned with the closeness of him. Jenny caught herself a moment before her body could gravitate toward him.

“I win,” she said forcefully. She lifted her chin and clenched her fists.

All it took to break through her defiance was for Julian to lean in closer; his breath tickled her cheek and his lips were warm against her ear when he whispered, “Only because I let you.”

Jenny let out a slow breath and closed her eyes. _I am my only master._ She repeated the mantra in her mind slowly as she breathed the words in. Already she could take back control of her racing heart.

“Does it help?”

Jenny glanced at him, annoyed at him for pulling her so easily out of her thoughts. “Does what help?” Her voice sounded weak even to her ears. He was still too close. If she moved in any way, she would touch him. The last thing Jenny wanted was to give him any more consent than he already had to touch her.

“Repeating that ridiculous one-liner to yourself. Does it help you feel empowered? Does it give you strength to resist me?” His voice was silky and condescending; a beautiful, horrible sound.

“You should try it,” Jenny said and closed her eyes again. If she couldn’t see him, he couldn’t melt her brain and entice her visually. That was all he had; tricks and illusions. The problem was that he was too good at it. He blended reality with delusions so well that half the time, she didn’t know something was a trick until she reflected back on it later. Some things like Tom giving her a set of earrings for her birthday – Jenny had worn it, and was left bewildered when Tom complimented her on her choice of jewellery. Things like having a long talk and a good cry with Dee, only to discover that the person cradling her was Julian.

Things like her dreams seeping into real life.

“I didn’t think so.”

Jenny pinched her eyes shut tighter to combat the frustrated tears that came at his words. He was right, of course, the mantra didn’t help her to resist him. She’d be an idiot to deny the pull there was between them. Julian had said it himself once, that they were drawn to one another like a moth to a flame. It was inexplicable and terrifying. The times when she felt wild and free and beautiful in his proximity were long gone. Jenny often questioned if that was how she had really felt around him or if it had just been another trick of his, because now he made her feel trapped, weak and disgusting. He could get inside her head, and according to everyone else he _was_ inside her head. A fragment of her traumatic childhood experience with her grandfather in the basement, they said. Psychosis and schizophrenia had also been thrown about when nobody thought she was listening.

“This is getting awkward, Jenny. Just kiss me already.”

“Dream on,” Jenny muttered and with her eyes still shut tight, she tried to ease past him.

“If you so desire,” Julian sighed softly.

His hand was strong and cool around her elbow and tightened so suddenly that it evoked a gasp from her lips and her eyes snapped open. He spun her around in such an elegant and firm way, like he knew exactly what he was doing and knew just how she would react. She faced him and felt the world slowly begin to dissolve into smoke around her when he pulled her against him.

She couldn’t resist in the same sense one couldn’t move at will in a dream, and a light went on in her mind.

As his hands delved into her hair, she once again came to the late realisation that this was his territory. A dreamscape he’d created in the midst of her vulnerability.

But she could feel his fingers lace through her hair, the slight pull against her scalp. His lips grazed hers and she couldn’t move away. The door was right behind him. If she could get to the doorknob- no, it would make things worse. They would both fall if she tried to open it, with her on top of him. Or there would be a world of ice and red eyes waiting on the other side – not that she thought Julian was particularly in the mood to terrify her in that moment but then again, _it was Julian_. She could never be certain.

But then again, it was just a dream. No matter how real he seemed. No matter what chain reactions seared through her body when he nipped at her bottom lip. The only thing she could muster the strength to do was to turn her face away. His mouth was unforgiving against her skin; hot and spreading goosebumps in his wake.

_Scream._

She had to scream. It was her first line of defence her mother had taught her when she was small. Alert the public that something was wrong.

It started as a silent rumbling in her chest as she worked against the oppressiveness of his presence. Stating that it was hard to do was putting it lightly; she could barely breathe with his slow kisses making their way down her neckline. Her hands found their way somehow to his shoulders. The resistance she felt in the dreamscape only ever gave way when she moved in the way he wanted, when she did as _he_ wanted. She melted against him and closed her eyes again.

She could feel the vibrations coming from her chest. Short bursts that she wasn’t sure hit the frequency she needed them to.

_Go harder, longer, go for broke, Jenny,_ she thought.

Though she was scared, she tried harder. There was no sound, only the echoes of it, and her heart dropped when Julian paused his venture to look her in the eye. His expression changed to something indistinguishable and his gaze went hard. Alarmed, he said, “No, Jenny, don’t-“

Jenny in the dreamscape opened her mouth and Jenny in reality screamed. For the first few seconds there was nothing but silence. Then, like a speeding train coming from a great distance, her screams filtered through the smoke and ripped her awake.

She was on her back on a bed and her voice was raw. Her scream faltered only until her mind caught up with the present moment, and her voice renewed with panicked fury as she struggled against the two orderlies in their blue uniforms holding her down on the bed.

“It’s okay, Jenny, sshh, you are okay. We’re here to help,” the nurse said before she jabbed a needle into Jenny’s arm.

“No,” Jenny shrieked, but it was too late. She could feel herself fading into darkness as the sedative swirled through her head.

“Fuck it!” Julian sounded so mad, and his words were the last she heard.

**Author's Note:**

> "...for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so. To me it is a prison."  
> \- Not my quote


End file.
